


My Soul To Take

by Saber_Wing



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety Attacks, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury, M/M, New Relationship, Super Soldier Serum, Superhusbands (Marvel), Whump, accidental injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 20:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saber_Wing/pseuds/Saber_Wing
Summary: “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”That flicker of unease he’d felt earlier came back full force. Steve frowned.“Are you sure you’re…”Tony looked up at him, thin sheen of sweat coating his brow.And Steve knew.His stomach dropped clean through his feet.Steve never gets to keep the ones he loves.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, past Steve Rogers/Peggy Carter
Comments: 33
Kudos: 442
Collections: Fanfics





	My Soul To Take

**Author's Note:**

> This is not anti Steve Rogers. Say it with me: This. Is. Not. Anti. Steve. Rogers. 
> 
> I'm well aware that my rendition of him is not the same as some people might portray. The same can be said of every person who writes fanfic. That's what makes it so damn beautiful. No two people have the exact same idea of a character. You're under no obligation to vibe with mine.
> 
> That being said, there are some pretty strong, controversial themes ahead. Please check the tags if you haven't already. Don't say I didn't warn you.

If Steve Rogers had any less self-control, he’d throttle Tony. And not the good kind.

Mustering up every scrap of patience he could manage, he reminded himself, for the dozenth time that day, that punching out his boyfriend and fellow co-leader would be frowned upon, unprofessional, and was not at _all_ tempting.

“Cap. Capitan. My Lord Capsicle.” Tony leaned on Steve’s shoulder. “You are _really_ killing my buzz.”

Steve snarled, clenching his fists so tightly, he heard his knuckles crack. “Has anything ever shut you up, a day in your life?”

Tony grinned, but it wasn’t a _nice_ smile. All gleaming eyes and sharp angles. He sidled closer to Steve, whispering in his ear. “Why? You wanna be my first?”

Steve wanted to punch that smirk right off his face.

Or kiss him senseless. Whichever came first.

“No?” Tony shrugged, pushing off the floor with his foot, and spinning a circle in his swivel chair. “Suit yourself.”

Nick Fury tapped his fingers impatiently on the table a few feet away, clearing his throat. It was just the three of them at the conference table. “Are you two finished?”

Tony continued his circuit around the room, chewing on the tip of a pen. “Ask Captain Perfect. He’s the _real_ authority around here.”

“Somebody has to be. What were you thinking?”

Tony did another lap, pushing off Steve’s leg for momentum. “I was _thinking_ that woman was going to die. Or didn’t you see the falling skyscraper headed her way? Maybe she could have come out on top, but – call me crazy -- I didn’t like her chances.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “I had her. I could have gotten there in time. Which you’d know, if you’d been on coms.”

“Okay,” Tony scoffed, jabbing a finger at Steve. “First of all, you can’t reprimand me for putting myself in harm’s way. We’re Avengers. That’s stupid. Second, maybe I wouldn’t have _muted_ my coms if you weren’t just using them to countermand my orders and yell at people. Third! No, fuck off, I’m not finished – third! You _didn’t_ have her. I snatched her up with millimeters to spare and you were a mile away, so don’t give me that bullshit!” Tony shook his head, brown eyes full of bewilderment. “And I would have _sworn_ you’d make the same call I did, until today.”

Steve bit his lip. Remembered a red-and-gold blur, facing down that debris alone. Enough debris to crush a man. Even one encased in a suit made of gold-titanium alloy.

His stomach churned. He felt sick.

“Enough!” Fury banged his fist down on the table. “What am I paying you two idiots for?”

Steve blinked. “Respectfully, sir, you don’t pay us at all.”

“Figure of speech, Rogers,” Fury replied, heaving a long-suffering sigh. He muttered, almost to himself, “They don’t pay _me_ enough to do this job.”

Tony spun around. Pushed off Steve’s knee. Spun around again.

Steve bit back a growl, cheeks flaming. “ _Stop_ that.”

“ _Make_ me,” Tony sing-songed back.

The stress of the day, combined with the added tension of trying to find a ‘new normal’, now that he and Tony were officially sharing each other’s beds, made something within Steve snap. He thrust his arm out, smacking Tony’s foot away. “Knock it off!”

The chair careened forcefully into the wall, with an audible crack.

Steve froze.

A moment passed. Another. Then another. A flicker of trepidation set Steve’s stomach roiling all over again.

Just as he was getting genuinely nervous, his boyfriend put that internal crisis to rest. Tony’s eyes flicked over to Steve, that unmovable grin stretched across his face, though it looked tight. Wrong. “Well, well. He likes it rough. Mr. _America_ , I am shocked…and scandalized.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve demurred, feeling a pang of guilt. He still forgot his own strength when he was under a lot of stress. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Forget about it.” Tony shrugged. He pushed off the wall with his left foot, sliding back to sit beside Steve.

The two of them had been sniping at each other for days. Between all the villains of the week, there hadn’t been time to sit down and talk about it. Steve was willing to admit he hadn’t been making it easy. He’d been tense, borderline _cold_ to Tony, particularly on the battlefield. And while the billionaire had clearly been angling for a reaction here, _any_ reaction, Steve should have been above rising to the bait.

Steve sighed. He caught Tony’s eye, hoping he could convey with a look what he couldn’t manage with words. They’d been doing so well communicating before moving their relationship to the next level. It wasn’t _Tony’s_ fault Steve was having trouble with the status quo.

As if to solidify his shame, Tony seemed to understand. He smiled gently. Blinked at Steve, with those big-brown eyes.

Steve loved him.

He didn’t _dare_ speak the words yet.

He needed to find a way to compartmentalize this. To quantify the way he felt for Tony, without jeopardizing his command and everyone under it. He needed to find a way to lead. A way not to instinctively put Iron Man above everyone else. He didn’t want to think that was what could have happened today, but it was looking like a grim possibility.

Steve focused back on the conversation as Tony continued to regale the S.H.I.E.L.D. Director with tales of their latest misadventure. His lover’s voice came lilting and easy, and for the rest of the briefing, he seemed his normal, animated self.

He did, however, remain oddly still. That set Steve’s teeth on edge.

If there was one thing he understood about Tony, it was that the man was in _constant_ motion. Hands waving, feet tapping. Fingers toying with a cufflink or clicking on a pen. Tony had to be _doing_ something. He tended to get anxious otherwise.

Yet, now, he sat with his hands in his lap. Entirely motionless.

Steve’s stomach clenched.

Tony wasn’t _acting_ angry with Steve. He was close enough that he could reach out and touch him, if he wanted to. Still…

Somehow, the three of them managed to get through the briefing without anyone being worse for wear. Fury _did_ fix them both with a lingering glare, however, and in no uncertain terms told them to figure their shit out. _“I couldn’t give a single fuck about your lover’s quarrels, so don’t you dare drag your miserable hides anywhere near my helicarrier until your goddamn heads are on straight.”_

For one uncomfortable minute, things were silent after Fury left, neither of them looking at one another. Steve still couldn’t see Tony’s hands. And that unsettled him. More than he could say.

“Tony…”

“Don’t.” Tony shook his head. His smile was soft, forgiving, but there was still something wrong with it. Something artificial that Steve wasn’t used to seeing directed at him.

“I really am sorry.” Steve looked him up and down. Searched his face.

“I told you, it’s fine.” Tony fiddled with his phone display. Shot Steve a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve winced. The ‘F’ word. Yikes. He _did_ have explaining to do.

“I know I’ve been...distant.” Steve stood up, threading their fingers together. Whatever his hubris, he didn’t want it to affect Tony. _Or_ what they had together. “Let me make it up to you?”

When he moved to pull Tony to his feet, the billionaire tugged his hand away. He tried to make it look casual, but it was an immediate red flag. Alarm bells _blared._

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

That flicker of unease he’d felt earlier came back full force. Steve frowned. Narrowed his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re…”

Tony looked up at him with shuttered eyes, thin sheen of sweat coating his brow.

And Steve _knew._

His stomach dropped clean through his feet.

“Didn’t you hear me? Go on, scram. I’ve got things to do that don’t involve you.” A note of desperation crept into Tony’s tone, one that Steve knew he was trying hard to force down. He hid his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you at home, okay?”

His right foot, conspicuously, hovered above the floor.

Steve stared.

“What, is there something on my face?” Tony quipped, though his voice was shakier now. Likely, he knew the jig was up, but he still straightened his posture. Wiped his brow. “Here, you know what? Fine, you win. Let’s go.”

Tony stood up from the chair, still balanced on his _left_ foot. He spun around, put his weight on his right…

…and _crumpled._

Steve surged forward to catch him, speechless. Horrified.

Tony whimpered. He tried to hold it back. Steve could see his teeth dart out, biting his lip, but he didn’t quite manage.

Oh, _God._

“It’s nothing. Let _go_ of _me,”_ Tony groused, pushing Steve away. He tried to take another step, and this time he managed one before he fell, stumbling into the wall by the door. “Okay. Maybe not nothing _.”_

This reminded Steve of the asthmatic episodes he used to have. He couldn’t seem to catch his breath, each one more stuttering and useless than the last.

He’d hurt Tony. _Hurt_ him. _Hurt him._

He stared into the middle distance, seeing nothing. Not _wanting_ to see anything, ever again. Because he’d hurt Tony.

_Hurt him._

“Oh, God, this is what I _didn’t_ want _…_ ” Tony muttered, on the edge of a moan. He was _leaning_ up against the wall now, eyes clouded with pain. “Steve. Baby, look at me...”

Steve could feel his breathing speeding up. His vision blurred.

“It’s okay.” Tony reached for him: voice soft, words calming. “We’re okay. Let’s just…”

The tears were welling up now, slipping down Steve’s cheeks. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the time at all.

But he’d hurt Tony. _Broken_ something, maybe. And for what, because Steve was a little _frustrated?_ Because he couldn’t handle _loving_ his best friend?

“I’m just gonna sit. Okay?” Tony slid down the wall, sweating, paler than sin. “You wanna sit?”

Steve knew he should move. He needed to scoop Tony up, and run him to medical. He needed to _fix_ this.

But his stomach was cramping. His lungs were bursting. His breath was stuttering, coming faster and faster, tearing violently from his lips. Sweat broke out on his brow. It was too hot. It was hotter than _hell_ in here…

He’d hurt Peggy once. Squeezed her arm, just a little too hard. She’d laughed it off. Silenced his apologies with a finger to his lips.

One week later, the year was twenty-twelve, and she didn’t know his _name_.

Tony was talking. Steve didn’t catch the words, but they cut through the haze — shrill. Terrified. That didn’t make any sense, because his lover was strong. Strong like Peggy. Like Bucky, and his mother. It hadn’t saved them.

It wouldn’t save _him._

Steve never got to keep the ones he loved.

A whimper punctuated by a series of curses, and suddenly, something was touching Steve’s ankle. He jolted.

Tony was there. He must have crawled his way over to Steve. He was grasping at one of the chairs they’d vacated, using the arms to lever himself up. He collapsed back into it, and Steve dropped to his knees. Cupped Tony’s face with both hands.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry…”

“Shh…” Tony crooned, reaching up with fingers that shook. "I egged you on. I know you didn't mean it."

“ _Never,”_ _Steve_ choked, holding him closer. Tony leaned into him. Kissed his palm. “Never.”

Tony touched their foreheads together, all but fell into him. Steve took his weight easily. Slid both arms around his waist. His voice was thready, drawn with pain. “Wanna give me a lift? I hear their facilities are to _die_ for.”

Steve choked on something he wasn’t quite sure should be a laugh or a _sob._

“Okay, not my best work, I’ll admit. I’m wounded here, give me a break.” Tony tucked his head under Steve’s chin.

Steve scooped Tony into his arms. He kissed his forehead. Get it together, soldier. Keep it _together._

Steve wiped angrily at the tears on his cheeks, hefting Tony with one arm. He needed to get him help. Nothing else mattered now.

Tony, for his part, was quiet, peppering the silence with the occasional witty anecdote. Likely more for Steve’s benefit than anything else. Steve was careful not to jostle him unnecessarily, though there were a few whimpers Tony tried _desperately_ to swallow. Each muffled noise broke his heart.

Steve got him to medical in record time and the nurses settled them in a private room, whisking Tony quickly away for x-rays and leaving Steve to collapse into a chair. He shot a quick message to Natasha, explaining the bulk of what happened, and promising to keep them apprised. Then, he dropped his head into his hands. There he sat, until the doctors returned.

This could _never_ happen again. If Steve couldn't find a way to contain his strength, under any kind of duress, he shouldn't have it at all. He was better than that. _Tony_ deserved better.

They’d given him something for the pain. By the time they wheeled him back in, Tony was pleasantly soft and muzzy headed, the strain gone from his face. The doctor put up x-rays and showed them the break. Hairline fracture at the ankle. All in all, nothing serious. Tony would have to wear a cast for six to eight weeks, after which, he’d be good as new.

They were discharged without much fuss. Tony remained oddly quiet when the Quin-jet came to pick them up, though narcotics always made him drowsy, and he slept on and off most of the way. The others gave them a wide berth, didn’t pry. Steve suspected Natasha was responsible for that, and he was more grateful than words could say.

He didn’t want to face them. Didn’t have the strength.

Steve took Tony back to his bedroom. Removed his socks. Dressed him in his favorite pair of sweatpants. That hoodie he’d pilfered from Steve, the month before. Tony was half-awake. Tugged him down for lazy kisses every chance he got. And if the occasional tear escaped Steve’s eyes, well, he’d kissed those too.

“What’s up with you lately, hmm?” Tony was brave enough to ask, later, as Steve held him close. He reached up. Found Steve’s cheek, and held his hand there. The words didn’t slur, but they were soft around the edges. He pressed a sloppy kiss to the underside of Steve’s jaw. “What’re you afraid of?”

For one long moment, Steve was silent. Tony stayed where he was, stroking his cheek with a thumb.

Tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks. “How can I lead the Avengers, when all I care about is you?”

Tony seemed to understand. His thumb paused for a moment, before resuming its idle stroking. “You still wanna lead ‘em. Don’t you?”

Steve choked on a sob. He recognized those words. _His_ words, spoken to Tony months before. He’d said them when they resolved to lead this team, _together._

“I do.” Steve reached up to hold Tony’s hand, kept it pressed against his cheek.

“Then we’ll figure it out.”

Steve held Tony. He’d just given him another dose of meds, so it wouldn’t be long, now. He let Tony burrow closer, breath hot against Steve’s bare chest.

He loved him. He _loved_ him.

Tony kissed his arm, sloppily, the only appendage he could reach.

This time, maybe that would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're all coping okay during the quarantine I know most of you are in! I work in the medical field, so no rest for the wicked here, but I thank you all for doing your part! <3\. Hope this fic kept you company.
> 
> Poor Steve. The man can bench press a tank, it's a wonder he doesn't break more people and things. He always means well, though.


End file.
